Singing For Survival
Our world is bursting with inspiring people, many of whom have battled the odds to make a difference, to leave their legacy behind to spur future generations on in their pursuit of great triumphs.
As a woman, I am naturally drawn to the women who have achieved great things, who have fought for their place, who have lost so much in order to help others gain.
But how can we pick just one woman worthy of our attention? Where do we start?
How about Kathrine Switzer, the first woman to run the traditionally all-male Boston marathon in 1967? Her valiant efforts were met with violent assaults from men intent on ousting her from “their” race. She pushed on, finishing the race in four hours and twenty minutes. Finally, in 1972 women were allowed to enter the race.
And then we have the truly incredible Harriet Tubman, who escaped the hell of slavery via the Underground Railroad only to return time and again to rescue 70 other men, women and children from their own living horrors. She continued to work tirelessly for the end of slavery, working as a scout in the Civil War to gather information to enable many raids into southern areas to liberate more people trapped in slavery.
We can’t talk about inspiring women without referencing the Suffragettes who campaigned for years, suffering verbal and physical abuse so that every woman’s voice could be heard. Many women lost their employment, their families, their way of life in their fight for equality. We’re still fighting now.
Vital discoveries have been made in the scientific world by women, but they’ve had to fight tooth and nail for them to be recognised. In 1800s England, a young woman called Mary Anning discovered some of the most famous geological finds along the Jurassic Coast. Due to her gender, she was not recognised as a scientist. However, her work still motivates experts today.
Jump forward to the 1960s and we meet Katherine Johnson, Dorothy Vaughan and Mary Jackson, three fiercely intelligent women who worked as NASA’s “human computers”. Despite their expertise, they were relegated to the side-lines, hidden away and forced to use separate dining and bathroom facilities all because of the colour of their skin. Katherine Johnson’s calculations proved invaluable in getting to the moon; Dorothy Vaughan became the NACA’s first black supervisor and was a proficient computer programmer, most notably the FORTRAN system; and Mary Jackson became NASA’s first black female engineer, going on to become the Federal Women’s Program Manager in the Office of Equal Opportunity Programs and as the Affirmative Action Program Manager in order to help other women advance their own careers.
After reading these brief bios anyone should feel fire flickering in their bellies and a determination to succeed.
And the list goes on.
But of all the stories and history I’ve read about there is one woman’s story I’m keen to explore, one that I believe many people won’t have heard about.
Her name was Margaret Dryburgh.
Margaret was born in 1890 in Sunderland, UK, to Elizabeth Dryburgh and Reverend William Dryburgh, a Presbyterian minister. Margaret trained as a teacher at King’s College, Newcastle before achieving a BA degree from Durham University with distinction in Latin and Education. In 1911 Margaret gained employment as a teacher, instructing her pupils in history, French and Latin. She left her post in 1917 to become a Presbyterian missionary and took further training to become a nursing sister.
In 1919, Margaret was sent on her first missionary posting to Shantou in China. With a gift for learning, she quickly picked up the Shantou dialect and taught in one of the local schools. Margaret moved to Singapore in 1934 and was appointed as head of the Choon Goan School.
Margaret worked hard to raise the standards at Choon Goan School, realising her ambition to see it recognised as a secondary school. Never afraid of hard work, she threw herself into organising fund-raising events and made sure the local children were looked after. She cared for her pupils’ needs and encouraged them to think of their futures. In fact, many former pupils recalled Margaret as being warm and approachable, if a little stern-faced. They remember a kind woman who “frequently paid for milk for undernourished pupils” and would do whatever she could for her charges. Poorer students paid less for the school fees and every child looked forward to lessons with Miss Dryburgh.
Everything seemed to be going well for Margaret. She was doing the job she loved, learning new skills, and had become an important figure in the community.
And then everything changed.
In 1942, Singapore fell.
Along with the majority of people in Singapore, Margaret tried to escape on one of the many overcrowded ships arranged as part of the evacuation. But freedom was to slip through her hands. The Mata Hari on which she sailed was captured and Margaret found herself interned as a prisoner of war, initially on the infamous Sumatran Bangka Island before being taken to Palembang.
Margaret was 52 years old when taken prisoner.
At first glance, Margaret looked like an unassuming woman. In fact, Helen Colijn, one of three adolescent sisters interned in the camp with her, stated: “When I first met Miss Dryburgh, she had struck me as a rather dull bird: eyes peeping through thick round lenses, brownish hair in a tight bun at the back of her head, a short stocky figure wearing the sensible loose-fitting cotton dress and Mary Jane-type shoes…. But I soon discovered that Miss Dryburgh was not at all a dull woman.”
No, Margaret had what people still refer to as the “British Bulldog spirit”.
And that spirit was vital.
As we know, life in the POW camps was unbelievably, intolerably cruel, full of punishments and deprivations of the worst kind imaginable. Such treatment broke many spirits, but Margaret’s strength and determination won through.
Margaret wasted no time in organising activities and church services for her fellow POWs. She knew how vital it was for the women and children to keep going, to have something to live for. Death was never far away, lurking within the squalid conditions, bringing disease and agony to the camp. But Margaret did her best to keep it at bay and encourage the women to find their inner strength to stay alive.
She set about creating a Glee Club (a musical group) and encouraged hymn singing, certain that holding onto faith would see them through. Margaret arranged writing classes, including a short story club, and urged her fellow captives to write poetry. She also produced a camp magazine, full of articles on cookery, reminders of home, and a section just for the children. Margaret even managed to create a crossword puzzle. She constantly reminded everyone to “Look Up!”. Everything she did was designed to keep the women and children occupied and to stop them thinking of the hell in which they now lived.
But Margaret’s greatest love was music. She composed “The Captive’s Hymn”, a haunting song full of hope and belief. Margaret first sung it on July 5 1942. Every Sunday after that the women would sing the song during their church services.
The women soon realised the power of music, something that would save them when life as prisoners took a turn for the worse.
After 18 months of captivity, the 600 POWs were moved again to a compound no bigger than a football field. The camp had once been used to imprison male POWs and was riddled with filth and disease. Rations had been drastically cut, medication dried up. Margaret became ill with dengue fever and morale deteriorated without their strident leader. Something needed to be done.
With the help of Norah Chambers, a Royal College of Music graduate, Margaret took the POWs down an entirely new path. They had no instruments in the camp and Norah had the idea that they could create an orchestra using voices. Margaret had an uncanny ability of remembering and writing down complex orchestral pieces. The works were copied out with meticulous care in miniscule writing on precious scraps of paper.
Margaret said, “The idea of making ourselves into a vocal orchestra came to us when songs were difficult to remember, and we longed to hear again some of the wonderful melodies and harmonies that uplifted our souls in days gone by.”
The two women worked hard to create magic that would transport the women and children far away from the squalor, giving them the will to survive.
On 27 December 1943, the first concert was given. Many women were terrified of repercussions as large gatherings were forbidden. But the main emotion was one of excitement.
Margaret introduced the concert, explaining what they had been doing.
“So close your eyes, and try to imagine you are in a concert hall hearing Toscanini or Sir Thomas Beecham conduct his world-famous orchestra.”
The concert had the desired effect. Prisoner Helen Colijn recalled, “The music soared into its first rich and full crescendo. I felt a shiver go down my back. I thought I had never heard anything so beautiful before.”
It wasn’t only the POWs who were spellbound. A brief moment of fear threatened to spoil the concert when several guards poured in. But rather than breaking things up, the guards sat and listened, lulled by the enchanting music.
Orchestra member Flo Trotter later recounted, “That concert did wonders for the camp. The women said it helped to renew their sense of human dignity and feeling of being stronger than the enemy. That night, everyone forgot about the rats and the filth.”
Margot Turner remarked that “…it was the most wonderful thing in our lives and I don’t know what we should have done without it”.
Sadly, the brutality of the camp took its toll. As malnutrition and sickness took control, the women grew weaker and weaker. As a result, the members of the Vocal Orchestra suffered and the final concert took place on June 17 1944.
Two more moves took place, taking the women and children to even filthier camps. Many women died as a result of the ruthless marches from camp to camp and the inhumane conditions at each compound.
As Norah Chambers later reflected, “Our vocal orchestra was silenced forever when more than half had died and the others were too weak to continue…..it was wonderful while it lasted.”
The final move took them on a gruelling four day journey to Loebuk Linggau, deep in the heart of Sumatra. The journey saw too many deaths. Margaret died on April 21 1945, shortly after arriving at the final camp. Her friends buried her at the camp. She was later reburied in the Dutch War Grave Ceremony in Java in 1951.
Margaret Dryburgh used every ounce of her strength and belief to help the women and children of the camp to find hope. She worked with her friends, all from different backgrounds and with various language barriers, but united against a common threat. Every day the women and children faced death. Every day they woke up not knowing if that day would be the end of the war or the end of their lives. Margaret and her friends pierced the darkness with hope, they took despair and turned it into peace.
In Margaret’s own words “May the day of freedom dawn, Peace and Justice be reborn”.
Margaret’s day of freedom sadly never dawned. But Margaret, Norah Chambers, and the members of the Vocal Orchestra should be an inspiration to us all. They lived in hell, but never gave up the hope of finding freedom.
Margaret’s legacy remains today. Whatever torture you are facing, whatever obstacles life throws in your path, never give up, never look down. Hold your head high and look up.
Hope will never leave you.
